All The Right Reasons
by JustGidget
Summary: "My parents don't know that I'm gay. I force my voice to sound rougher and more masculine around my father." AU in which Kurt was born into the Fabray family and Blaine helps him come out. Klaine.
1. Prologue

**So, the idea for this story is based on a prompt I saw floating around a few weeks ago. Basically, Kurt was born into the Fabray family and Quinn was born into the Hummel family. I think I'm gonna stick to Kurt's POV only during this story and we will witness Quinn's struggle with her pregnancy through Kurt's eyes. This is definitely a Klaine fanfic because you can never have too much Klaine :) I'm hoping I can do this prompt justice and pull out a good story from it. Reviews are welcomed and very much encouraged!**

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><p>It's another one of those days at McKinley High. The kind that make me wish I was home schooled or went to some prestigious private school where the students didn't act like they were ten years old. I'm sitting in the back corner of the choir room hoping no one talks to me today, though that's very unlikely. Mercedes <em>always <em>has something to talk about, whether it be that really cute Tackle from biology or a new accessory she's bought. Mercedes is lovely-amazing, actually-but today, I'm just not in the mood.

This morning started off horribly when I slept through my alarm and was late to school. My mother stepped into my room asking if I was feeling okay to which I groggily answered that I was fine, why? And then she had informed me that it was eight o'clock. The bell to home room _rings_ at eight o'clock. I was forced to skip my morning routine today so my skin feels absolutely _atrocious._

I reach up to run my fingers over my face. _Ugh._

On my way to first period, I somehow managed to run into a couple of jocks on their way to gym. Thankfully, they weren't armed with any slushies today, but Karofsky did decide to throw me against a row of lockers for the third time this week (it's Tuesday.) All I could do was straighten out my jacket as I watched the pack of gorillas laugh amongst themselves, one of them clapping Karofsky on the shoulder.

To top it all off, I missed a pop quiz in bio, so I automatically received a failing grade. Kurt Fabray could _not _receive failing grades. I cannot allow myself and my parents would ground me for a week if they find out. I have spent the rest of the day trying to come up with some sort of plan to avoid my parents finding out about that F. So far, I have nothing.

I tuck my Michael Kors bag under my seat as I sink into it, arms crossing over my chest, legs crossed. Hopefully my body language will deter people from sitting next to me and trying to start a conversation. Surprisingly enough, it does. Mercedes walks in and waves at me with a little smile, but continues her conversation with Tina. I watch them for a moment and nearly sigh in relief as my eyes turn back to the front of the room as I stare into the whiteboard. Slowly, the room starts filling and I half regret coming to Glee club today. Sectionals is right around the corner, though, and I can't afford to miss rehearsal again. Last week I had to miss thanks to a dinner party in Westerville my parents forced me to go to. Something about one of my father's clients.

That had been the most awkward dinner party of my _life._ Needless to say, I would have rather spent the evening rehearsing a duet with Rachel Berry.

I spent more than half of the night awkwardly conversing with a girl who was around my age. I think she was my dad's client's daughter. Honestly, I couldn't remember because I was too busy inwardly cursing my parents for forcing me to talk to this girl.

"You two should talk," my father had said as he introduced us. "Kurt's single and looking."

My eyes had gone wide as I stared up at my father, jaw dropping. I had watched him laugh and pat my back roughing, "It's a joke, son." Though I didn't believe him. He _always_ did this. He was always trying to set me up with random girls who I had no interest in.

My parents don't know that I'm gay. Well, I haven't _told_ them. They probably have their suspicions with the way that I choose to dress myself and my love for Glee club. Actually, my parents are probably the only people who don't know I'm gay. All of my friends in Glee club know. It's almost like I'm an entirely different person at home. I force my voice to sound rougher and more masculine around my father. Last year, I joined the football team as kicker with a little bit of help from Finn Hudson. It's allowed me to gain a little more respect from my peers, but not much. Everyone still knows about my love for Broadway and fashion. I didn't join the football team for me. At first, there was a _little_ bit in it for me considering it would allow me to spend more time with Finn. I still have trouble processing that crush I had for Finn and kick myself for even being sexually attracted to him. Things are fine between us now, though. We're almost like brothers, actually.

I look at Finn and he smiles at me. He knows how rough it's been lately. He sees the way the other boys tease me at football practice. Every now and then he steps in and defends me, but that's only half of the time. He thinks getting on Karofsky's bad side will affect our win at the games so he tries to keep things civil. I barely smile back before tearing my gaze away and looking down at my lap.

"Alright guys," Mr. Shue calls. "Here in my hand, I've got our competition for Sectionals." He waves the paper in the air.

Almost immediately, my head perks up curiously. I'm glad I didn't skip rehearsal today. Maybe Glee club can take my mind off of things for a while. I listen closely as Mr. Shue reads off the names of the schools. An all boys private school and a group of old folks from an adult education center. A few of the members in the room make rude comments about the competition, but I barely register them. That's only until Santana laughs and says, "Alright. Hold up. Like, a million gay jokes just popped into my head."

My head snaps in her direction as she smirks back at me. I say nothing, far too exhausted to even snap at her. Instead, I roll my eyes and turn my attention back to the front of the room, uncrossing and crossing my legs.

The remainder of the Glee club doesn't go as smoothly as I had hoped. Mr. Shue splits us up into groups and when I try to join the girls, he forces me to return to the boys. As if I don't have to deal with them enough at football practice, he commands me to work on this project with the boys. By this point, anger is boiling in the pit of my stomach, but I bite my tongue and return to the side of the room where I _belong._ With the boys. I let out a frustrated huff as I sit down between Finn and Puck who are discussing their plans for this weekend which consists of going to some party. Within seconds, I'm zoning out and thinking of a way to make these Neanderthals work together so that we can win this thing. I already have outfits planned.

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><p>That evening when I get home, I am greeted by my mother who's already made dinner. My stomach growls at the smell as I drop my bag near the door and call out, "I smell something delicious." and smile. I hear her laugh from the kitchen as she responds, "Your father should be home in a few minutes so we're almost ready to eat."<p>

Everything in this house seems to revolve around my father's schedule and it's exhausting. He never really does much while he's at home, either. My mother cooks and cleans and I do all of the rest. All of the "things a man should do around the house." Things my father says I need to learn to do so that I can provide for my future wife. It's something that he talks about _a lot _and it always makes me wonder if this is his way of keeping me from going gay, even though I know I've been gay since the age of six.

Normally, little boys my age liked watching Transformers and G.. I preferred watching Cinderella and The Little Mermaid. At daycare, I liked playing house with the girls instead of playing red rover with the boys. I liked wearing bow ties instead of wearing hoodies.

One night when I was about fourteen years old, I overheard my parents arguing. My father was telling my mother that I wasn't normal. That I shouldn't have been watching these weird musicals and that it wasn't right for a boy my age to like these things. He said it wasn't ok. My mother had tried defending me but her words had gone unheard. That was the day I decided I would join the football team in high school. It was a way to prove to my dad that I could be the son he had always wanted. I refused to give up my true love, though.

I still love fashion and I still love Broadway. Though, it's something I don't talk about. I keep these things I'm passionate about locked away in a little box that's deep inside my heart. I never express my feelings on the new Vogue issue to my parents and I definitely don't ask if we could watch the Tony Awards instead of the football game. I just don't.

Instead, I spend time with my girlfriends. I watch the Tonys with Rachel. I talk fashion with Mercedes. My parents know who I am but they pretend not to.

They pretend their son is this big football fanatic. They pretend he's going to take some beautiful girl to prom. They pretend he's going to get his first kiss from a girl and that he's going to fall in love with that girl. They're going to get married and have a couple of kids. And they're going to stay in Lima, Ohio. And their son is going to remain in the closet for the rest of his life. They think he's going to live a lie and force himself into bed with a woman. That he is going to have sex with her and pretend to enjoy it. That he isn't going to wonder what it would be like to sleep with a man. To kiss a man. To be with a man.

I smile at my mom. "I'm gonna take a quick shower. I'll be down soon." And I retreat up the stairs. I want to stay in my room for the rest of the night.

I don't want to sit at the table and offer my parents that fake smile. I don't want to lie and tell them that everything is fine at school. I don't want to tell them that things are going great at football practice. I want them to know the torment I've been put through this year. I want them to know that their son is being pushed around and bullied because he's gay.

But, I can't tell them. Because they won't accept me. I know that they know but they pretend not to. Because that's how everything works in this house. We all pretend that everything is fine. We all pretend that I'm _straight._ We all pretend that I didn't spend all of last year following Finn around like a lovesick puppy. Everything gets pushed aside because this is a perfect family, god damnit. There are no _queers _in this family because Russell Fabray would never raise a gay son.

So, I do what I have been doing every day of my life. I _lie._ I sit at the dinner table and tell my father that today was fantastic. That I've never been better because that's what I've been taught growing up in this household. That lying is ok. And as long as you _pretend that everything is fine, it is._


	2. Chapter 1

Lying is exhausting. Pretending to be someone I'm not in my own home is even more tiring. I love being at school, actually. In fact, I prefer it. Sometimes, I would rather be thrown into a set of lockers while being _myself_ rather than smiling across the table at my father, pretending to be the boy I'm not.

It's on Thursday that I find myself wandering the halls of Dalton Academy. Minutes after sneaking past the grand entrance, I meet a boy. The most beautiful boy I have ever seen. His name is Blaine Anderson. Seconds after meeting, he takes my hand and leads me through the gorgeous empty corridors of Dalton Academy. I can't help myself as my eyes dart around, taking in every brush stroke on the wall, every little flower decorating the tables. _Everything._ This place is perfect, this place is _heaven._ I want to transfer here immediately. I soon realize that this boy is a member of The Warblers. He's the lead soloist, actually. And he takes my breath away. I notice that his eyes don't leave mine as he sings Teenage Dream. It's almost as if he's singing to _me._ I can barely take my eyes off of him. His voice is so smooth, so calm, so breathtakingly _beautiful. _And I'm almost certain that it's love at first sight.

I learn so much about Blaine that afternoon. I learn that he's gay and that he was bullied. He transferred from a public school and Dalton has been a safe haven for him. With each passing minute, I want to transfer here more and more. I knows my parents can afford it. My dad makes good money. He makes a lot of money, actually. But, what am I supposed to say? How am I supposed to ask my dad if I can transfer to Dalton Academy?

"I'm being bullied because I'm gay, dad. McKinley is living hell and I'm scared to walk the halls alone because I fear someone might hurl me into a set of lockers."

Not likely. So, I come up with a plan. I spend the entire night doing my research. Dalton is one of the best schools in Ohio. It's kind of like the Harvard of high schools. It's difficult to get accepted, but I'm sure I can manage. I pull straight A's at McKinley and almost all of my classes are AP. I can explain to my father that it would look good on my college application. And besides, many Dalton graduates have moved on to attend ivy league universities. These are great reasons.

"Absolutely not."

I'm sitting at the dining room table, my father across from me. Across the table, there are printouts of information on Dalton and I haven't even gotten to the statistics I've put together yet. And he's already said no.

"Why not?" I'm unable to stop the words from coming out of my mouth.

"It's unnecessary. You have no business attending some all boy's academy," my father says tightly, eyes on mine. His mouth is pulled into a thin line.

I swallow. I have a feeling this has something to do with the fact that it's an _all boy's school._

"But I-"

"Kurt. I'm not going to argue about the matter."

"It's one of the top schools in Ohio, though. I'll have a better chance at getting into a good university."

"This conversation is _over._" I watch as he stands and leaves the table without another word. My eyes flicker down to the table where the papers are neatly set out and I feel my heart sink deep, deep inside my chest. My eyes sting as I drop my head onto the table and I begin to cry quietly. I stay there for the next half hour. I think I hear my mother in the kitchen at one point, but she doesn't call out to me to ask if I'm ok. She never does.

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><p>It's been three days and I can still feel Karofsky dry lips pressed firmly against mine. I try not to gag at the thought. It's both infuriating and disgusting. After all of that hate and bullying, he's turned out to be a closeted homophobic gay guy. I never knew there could be so many contradictions in one person. I thought maybe there was a chance that Karofsky would be civil enough to apologize, maybe talk to me and Blaine. But, things have only gotten worse. Blaine agreed to drive down to McKinley to confront Karofsky about what happened, but it was all in vain. Karofsky has only become more aggressive after the kiss, if one could even call it that. It's a lot harder to walk through the halls now. Every time Karofsky sees me, he makes his presence known by either shoving me aside or half throwing himself at me to make me flinch.<p>

It's nearly midnight and I'm on the phone with Blaine. I'm in my room lying on my bed on my stomach. My feet are kicked up in the air, crossed at the ankle. This position is very comfortable, very _me._ Something I usually can't be at home. That's why my door is locked.

"I tried talking to him again tonight," I say softly into the phone, chin resting on my hand. "But he just pushed it aside, _again._"

I can hear Blaine sigh on the other end of the line and I can practically see him pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. "He's being so stubborn."

"Tell me something I don't know," I mutter softly before sighing and rolling onto my back to look up at the ceiling. And then, a thought occurs. Before I can stop myself, I'm speaking. "Do you have skype?"

Blaine goes silent for a moment and then he laughs quietly. "Um. Yeah, why?" he asks carefully.

"I do, too." And then I'm scrambling off of my bed and dropping down onto my desk chair as I poke at the keyboard, watching my laptop screen come to life. "Give me your e-mail," I say and Blaine doesn't argue. He does just that. It takes a few tries, but I finally get Blaine's e-mail added to my contacts and we're connected. I see Blaine's smiling face on my screen and I smile as I hang up the phone. "Much better," I say quietly.

Suddenly, I get the urge to show Blaine around my room. We spend the next hour talking aimlessly. Laughing softly at stupid jokes and discussing the newest trends in fashion. This is something I've never done with a boy and it feels amazing.

As the days go by, I wonder what my father would think about Blaine. I wonder if that adorable boyish charm would work on him. Or if my father would call Blaine mean names behind his back. I'm almost afraid to introduce him to my father. Blaine has become my best friend in just a few short weeks. I spend almost all of my free time with him now and I can't seem to get enough of the boy. I'm almost sure I'm madly in love with him. With Blaine, I feel something I didn't feel with Finn. Things with Finn were very…one sided. It wasn't that Finn was mean to me or anything. He just kind of brushed me off every now and then, probably because I made him uncomfortable. He would give me these looks, his eyes would beg me to stop what I was doing. Stop "accidentally" brushing my shoulder against his, stop shooting him flirty little glances during Glee club. But, I pretended not to notice it because I was so desperate. Because I wanted him to want me _so_ bad. Because I wanted a boy to have feelings for me and not flinch whenever I sat too close.

It's so different with Blaine. He doesn't mind if I sit too close. He pats my knee. He smiles at me like other boys have _never_ smiled at me. It warms my heart and I almost wish I could ask him how he feels about me. But I don't. Because I'm afraid of being rejected again. I know with Blaine I have a better chance because he's _gay._ But, that's just it. If he rejects me, I wouldn't know what to do with myself. I'm not sure my heart could take something like that at this point of my life. There are far too many things I'm juggling right now.

But, that doesn't stop me from having feelings for Blaine. And it certainly doesn't stop me from admitting to myself that I'm in love with him.

We meet up for coffee _a lot_ and sometimes I find myself just staring at Blaine a little longer than I probably should.

Like now, as Blaine is showing me around his dorm room. But, unlike our first skype date, I'm actually in his room. It smells nice in here. It smells like _boy_. But not the nasty kind of boy smell like the locker room at school. It smells like Blaine's cologne. Something that I've grown to love and memorize. It smells like Blaine's car. It smells like our friendly dates to see The Sound of Music and Rent and trips to The Lima Bean. It smells like those warm hugs in the bitter winter air.

"I would give anything to transfer here," I say, sitting on the edge of the bed. For a moment, a little thrill shoots through me at the idea of sitting on Blaine's bed. I push the thought aside as Blaine takes a seat beside me, head turned as he looks at me. I continue to speak. "It's like the complete opposite of McKinley. For one thing, the students here actually _care_ about their school work." I turn my head to look at Blaine who is smiling sadly at me.

"I'm so sorry, Kurt," he mutters. He looks like he wants to offer more words, but nothing comes out.

So, I just shrug. "Yeah. Me too."

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><p>It's the last day before Winter Break and part of me is grateful while the other is kind of dreading it. I've spent the majority of the day trying to figure out how I could avoid being at home. Ever since I suggested transferring to Dalton the very atmosphere within my own home has been nothing but tension. The conversations that flow around the table are forced even more so than usual. The laughs are fake. I'm half expecting my father to snap one night and just <em>scream<em> at me. It hasn't happened yet and I'm doing my best to keep myself from giving him any reason to do so. The best way to avoid the situation is to just avoid him all together.

I'm at my locker gathering my things and shoving them into my bag. The only reason I'm still around is because of football practice. Coach Bieste decided to work us to the bone today, claiming it's the least she could do since we won't be seeing each other for two weeks. My limbs are throbbing and I feel absolutely disgusting. Every part of my body is sticky with dried sweat. It's when I'm putting away my final notebook, about to shut the locker that I overhear a voice that sounds very similar to Quinn's. I pause for a moment, a hand on the door, looking around the halls but see nothing. They're completely empty. I hear the voice again. It's definitely Quinn.

"I don't _care_ what you think. As far as I'm concerned, Finn is the father, _not you._ Leave me alone." I hear something snap shut and seconds later, Quinn is walking around the corner. She sees me immediately and I could almost swear that I see the color drain from her face as her eyes go wide. They're red and puffy. It looks like she's been crying for hours.

I say nothing, though I immediately know what I just overheard. Something I wasn't supposed to hear from the look on Quinn's face.

"How much of that did you hear?" she suddenly breathes.

I stay silent for a moment before shutting my locker. "Enough to know that you're pregnant," I finally say.

My heart feels heavy and I'm not sure why. Quinn and I were never close. She never acknowledged my existence before she joined Glee club and even now, she's hardly ever looks at me. This is probably the most we have ever talked. But, for some reason, I feel absolutely awful. The look of sheer terror on her face rips through me.

"Does Finn know?" I ask slowly and she shakes her head. My eyebrows knit together. But, didn't she just say he was the father?

As if she read my mind, Quinn speaks. "He's not the father," she nearly sobs, voice quivering. "It's Puck."

Holy shit.

Quinn, the president of the celibacy club has _cheated_ on her boyfriend and _slept_ with his best friend. Before I can say another word, Quinn is throwing herself at me. I freeze, arms at my side as she begins sobbing into my shoulder, her weight pressed into my body. I pull my arms around her to keep her from falling. I lead her to a bench that's a few paces away and she cries into my shoulder. I loose track of time as I sit there, hand on her back, eyes locked on the white wall across from us. She almost seems relieved. Like maybe she's glad somebody else _finally _knows. Part of me wants to remind her of all the times she ignored me and brushed me off. Treated me like I didn't exist. But I can't. Because the girl that's crying into my shoulder is a completely different person. The girl crying into my shoulder is lost and doesn't know what she's going to do now that she's sixteen, carrying a child fathered by somebody she isn't even dating, and from the looks of it, never plans on it. All I can do is silently comfort her within these abandoned halls of McKinley.

We end up sitting in Quinn's car for the next hour and talking. She tells me everything and it takes me a little while to get over the fact that suddenly, Quinn is trusting me with all of these secrets. It's almost as if all of this information was bottled up inside her and she was just dying to get it out. She tells me her dad doesn't know. I tell her that she should probably tell him, but she's terrified. Burt Hummel is the only family member Quinn has in Ohio. She tells me that they have a great relationship and she's horrified she will become a disappointment by telling him that his little girl screwed up and got pregnant. She doesn't want him to see her as a failure. I don't want to push the idea, but I let her know that she needs to tell him sometime, especially if she plans on not aborting the baby.

I've always really liked Burt Hummel. I've only met him once at one of those school open house nights. I met him through Finn and immediately I felt this amazing…aura about him. It would be a complete lie if I said I haven't thought about what it would be like to have someone like him as a dad. I wonder how he would handle my being gay. I wonder if he would accept me.

It's something I try not to think about too much because it's a ridiculous idea. Burt Hummel isn't my father, Russell Fabray is. And my father knows that I'm gay, though he refuses to admit it. He expects me to live my life doing the same, and I have.

Up until I met Blaine.

Blaine's changed everything. I want to be with Blaine so badly. I want him in my life, I want him to be a part of my family. I've never wanted to tell my parents I'm gay. I've never had such a strong urge to sit them down and say, "Mom. Dad. I'm gay."


	3. Chapter 2

Blaine and I have been spending a lot of time together and I love it. Winter break has given me a lot of free time and none of my teachers really assigned any homework over the break. I just have to read a book for English which I finished earlier on this year. Blaine, on the other hand, has been assigned work for a few of his classes. Regardless, I find myself over at Blaine's house a lot. His parents seem to like me, especially his mom. Blaine's dad is nice, but he's a little distant. Blaine's has explained to me that that's just kind of how he is so I try not to take it personally. My friends' parents always love me but I just try to brush it aside.

I've formed a friendship with Blaine's mom. Just like me, she loves to cook. Sometimes when I'm over and Blaine is busy with his homework, I spend time with her. In the few weeks that I've known the woman, she's felt more like a mom to me than my mother ever has.

Between Christmas and New Years Eve Blaine and I don't see each other so we decide to spend New Years Day together, at least. For the first time, we decide to meet up at my house. I'm a little hesitant about it because there's always been that nagging in the back of my mind. What if my dad doesn't like Blaine? What if he can tell that Blaine is gay and forbids me from being friends with him or ever seeing him again? There's no way I can explain the bond I share with Blaine because my father doesn't understand. He doesn't know what I've been put through at McKinley. He doesn't know about any of the bullying or death threats. To him, Blaine is just some kid I met. He doesn't know that in the two months that I've known the boy I've fallen in love with him. He doesn't know that Blaine has suddenly become my rock, my fucking _everything._

When the doorbell rings my stomach drops as I race down the stairs to answer it before my mother. I keep my steps light as to not let her know I'm practically flying down them to get to the door before she can. I yank the door open a little too forcefully to find Blaine's smiling face. Immediately, my heart flutters in a way it only does whenever I see Blaine. We stand there just looking at each other and smiling for a few seconds and then I realize that I'm kind of staring at Blaine and I haven't even invited him in yet. I practically sputter out the words, "Come in, you must be freezing." because this winter has been extremely cold, especially the last few days. Blaine smiles gratefully as I step aside allowing him into the house and closing the door behind him. I watch as he shrugs off his coat and tugs at his gray and red scarf before unwinding it from his neck. I love seeing Blaine out of uniform because I have to admit, his fashion sense is almost as good as mine. He looks good in _anything._ I realize I'm staring again when Blaine looks at me and smiles softly.

"Here, I can take that for you," I offer, holding out an arm for Blaine's coat and scarf. I turn to hang it up on the coat rack. When I turn back to look at him, he's pulled the beanie off of his head and he's running his fingers through his hair. His untamed, thick black curls. I nearly choke on air as I quickly turn my eyes over to one of the very expensive paintings on the wall. One my father bought while on a business trip to Russia (or something. I kind of zone out when my father talks about his business trips over dinner.) From the corner of my eye, I can see Blaine shoving the hat into the pocket of his hanging coat. I finally look back at Blaine, my eyes immediately falling on his beautiful curly hair. It's something I have never noticed considering Blaine always puts about two million pounds of gel in his hair. Not that I could really get on his case for using so much gel considering I'm just as guilty with my hairspray.

Suddenly, I just want to reach out and touch his hair. I wonder if it feels as soft a fluffy as it looks. Now I'm staring to feel creepy with these thoughts, so I speak up to stop them from running through my mind. "My mom's in the kitchen," I say before signaling him to follow me.

The introduction to my mother is a little awkward. She just kind of smiles and nods offering him a belated merry Christmas. Not much else is said so we excuse ourselves and head up to my room. I'm thankful my father isn't home because he probably would have made everything twice as awkward.

Once we're in my room, I walk over to a shelf in the corner lined with all of my movies that I have organized alphabetically. My fingers brush over them as my eyes drift over the various titles. Some old musicals, some new ones, a few animated movies from my childhood. "How about a movie?" I offer, tossing my head over my shoulder to look at Blaine. I do a double take to find that Blaine has managed to wander into my closet like a curious puppy. I laugh softly, turning on the heel of my foot and crossing my arms, a small smile on my face. "What are you doing?" I ask gently.

Blaine's voice is a little muffled considering he's already inside my walk-in closet. "This is like heaven," I hear him say a little awestruck. "My mom's closet isn't even this big."

I arch a brow, still smiling as I drop my arms and walk over to the closet standing at the doorframe to find Blaine looking at my shirts. I'm organized, unlike most boys my age. It's another thing about me that I'm sure my dad finds strange. Ever since I was young, I had a habit of organizing things-like my closet, for example. When I was about eight my parents took me to a therapist because my father thought I had OCD.

He was wrong.

I smile fondly at Blaine and I can feel butterflies fluttering around in my stomach as he smiles that hundred watt smile of his. He laughs a little as he tugs at a white, fuzzy sweater. "Really?" he asks, eyes falling on me. I duck my head, a little embarrassed and then I laugh. "I swear, it was a phase I went through."

Blaine rolls his eyes playfully, still smiling and my stomach does this funny little swoop that only happens when Blaine is around.

"Do you wanna try something on?" I ask before I can stop myself. For a moment, I'm mortified. I _never_ let anyone try on my clothes.

But, Blaine is different, I remind myself. Blaine is just _Blaine_ and I would let him do anything.

I can see Blaine's face light up at my question as his hands stop sifting through the shirts. "That would be…pretty awesome, actually," he laughs as he looks back at the clothes. "I'm going to look absolutely _ridiculous._"

Blaine makes me feel things I've _never_ felt before, even with Finn. I remember telling myself that I was in love with Finn, but the things I felt with him were nothing compared to Blaine. I don't feel like cringing when I watch Blaine emerge from my closet wearing one of my outfits. Instead, I laugh. I laugh harder than I have in a really, really long time. I watch as Blaine pulls a little face at me when I laugh and I wipe at the tears in my eyes as I apologize and explain that the clothes just looks so hilarious because it's huge on him. And it's just funny seeing someone else in my incredibly elaborate outfits. I briefly wonder if I look like that and then convince myself that, no, I don't. Because I'm Kurt Fabray and I can pull anything off.

Blaine is sitting on my desk chair buttoning up his cardigan when my father walks into the room. My stomach drops and my heart nearly stops when I hear his voice as he says my name. He begins to say something but stops half way when he sees Blaine's unfamiliar face. Almost immediately, Blaine stands, smiling that beautiful smile of his.

"Who's this?" my father asks a little stiffly.

Before I can get a word in, Blaine is striding over to my father, offering a hand to shake. "Blaine Anderson, sir. It's very nice to meet you."

"Oh, so you're Blaine."

My heart is hammering at my chest at this point and my fingers are digging into the comforter as I watch them from my spot on the edge of the bed. My father is barely smiling as he continues to speak.

"You're the kid Kurt's been hanging out with so much."

"Yes, sir," Blaine says politely. "I hope you don't mind me spending New Years Day with Kurt?"

There's a long pause as my father's eyes find me. I don't move, I don't smile, I don't say anything. Though, I'm trying to hard to read the expression on his face, but it says absolutely nothing. Suddenly, I'm dying to know what he's thinking.

"That's fine," he finally says as he looks back at Blaine to give him a small nod. His eyes find me again. "Just make sure the house is cleared before five, Kurt," he says, and then he's gone.

It's the first time my father has _ever_ asked me to have one of my guests _out of the house_ by a certain time.

I look at Blaine, expecting to see him a little taken a back by my father's attitude. However, part of me isn't surprised to see he isn't very affected by it. Even though he's never met the man, he knows what he's like so he was probably expecting this.

I sigh, raising my hands, the heels of my palms rubbing into my eyes. "Sorry about that," I mutter softly.

Blaine makes a little noise, brushing off my apology. "It's not like I didn't expect it," he says very quietly before he takes a seat beside me. I drop my hands to my lap and sigh again as Blaine digs into the pocket of his cardigan. He pulls out a little box that's wrapped in Christmas themed paper.

"…What is that?" I ask slowly.

"Oh, just a little something I decided to get your dad for Christmas," he responds and I elbow him lightly on the side. He laughs softly before handing me the box. "It's for you, dummy," he says finally.

I examine the little box for a few moments before my eyes raise to meet Blaine's who's smiling a little.

"I promise, it won't bite," he offers and I roll my eyes at him before tearing at the wrapping paper and setting it aside. I uncap the small box to find a little, yellow ceramic owl. Before I can say anything, Blaine is speaking beside me, his voice soft.

"I went to Japan with my parents about a year ago and this woman I met in one of the villages we visited gave it to me. She said it's a good luck owl. Different colors mean different things. Yellow…" he says as he picks up the little owl and takes the box from me, setting it aside, "symbolizes peace. That trip took place during one of the hardest times in my life. Everything at school was going downhill and the bullying was getting pretty bad." Blaine looks away from my face and down at the owl. "I'm not superstitious or anything, but..." He shrugs and smiles a little as he reaches out and grabs my hand. My stomach does that funny little swoop again at the physical contact and I smile, silently watching Blaine set the owl in my hand. "I want you to keep it," he says.

I'm used to getting extravagant gifts for Christmas and my birthday. Like Alexander McQueen clothing and Armani blazers, but this…this was quite possibly the best gift I have ever received in my life. My thumb brushes over the little owl for a moment before my eyes find Blaine who is smiling gently at me.

"Thank you," I breathe, eyes fluttering a little as I try to will away the tears that are stinging at my eyes. It fails. I watch Blaine's eyebrows pull together in a concerned look.

"Hey," he says, "It's not supposed to make you cry. It's supposed to make you happy."

I simply nod. "I'm not sad." And then I practically throw myself at Blaine, arms wrapping tightly around him, the little owl secure in my hand.

* * *

><p>Somehow, I find myself standing in front of my parents that night gathering all of the courage I never realized I had. Blaine and I talked for hours about this over coffee. He has managed to convince me that coming out to my parents is the best thing I can do. There's no sense hiding when everyone knows. He tells me that they're my parents and that they love me. They're here to protect me, not push me away. So, that night in my room I decide I'm going to do it. I'm going to finally open up to my parents and stop lying.<p>

"I don't want to hide anymore." My father is sitting still on the couch, gripping the glass of scotch, my mother sitting silently beside him. Her eyes are on the ground. "I'm gay," I finally breathe, my heart racing, my face burning, my body shaking. This tension that has been weighing me down for years has suddenly been lifted with those three words. The words I had screamed in my mind countless times.

"You have one hour," is his only response. His eyes are still on me. Beside him, I could see my mother finally lift her gaze for the first time since she sat down. She looks over at my father, lips parted. It looks almost as if she is going to say something, but no sound comes out of her mouth. She just stares at him, eyebrows knitting together, her expression matching mine.

"What?" I finally ask, utterly confused.

"You heard me. You have one hour. To pack your belongings and get out." His voice is cold, unwavering. He sounds like he's talking to one of his employees. Firing them for making one too many mistakes around the office. Not…

Not kicking his son out of the house.

"Wait, can't we-can't we talk about this or something?" By this point, my heart is at my chest. My stomach is in knots. I feel nauseous. My entire body just _hurts_ and I can't stop my hands from shaking. I suddenly want to take everything back. Go back to pretending. I have _never_ seen my father look at me this way. With so much hatred and disappointment. This man looking at me isn't my father. I'm not sure who he is. I watch him stand, eyes never leaving mine.

"There's nothing to talk about," he says finally, voice eerily calm.

"Yes there is," I try. I would do anything-_anything_ to change his mind. If I can't get him to do so, an hour from now I will be _homeless._ My eyes go to my mother. "Mom," I whisper. She doesn't look at me. She _can't_ look at me. I watch her turn her face away and lower it as she wraps her arms around herself, shoulders sagging. "Mommy," I hear myself say again, voice breaking this time. If anyone can save me at this moment it's _her._ She's supposed to stand up for me. But she doesn't. She sits behind my father and does what he wants her to do. Like she always does.

"You've already wasted three minutes standing there."

My eyes shoot back to meet my father's cold gaze.

"I don't understand why you're doing this." I can't stop my voice from quivering. I try to stop the sob that reaches my throat by raising a hand and covering my mouth, but it still manages to slip through my fingers.

"Because you're not my _son._" The words shoot right through my heart. I never really knew what a broken heart felt like until now. I'm almost sure I can feel my heart crumbling in my chest. It's difficult to process those words. I always wondered what it would be like if I came out to my dad. I wondered what he would say. I pictured the way he would look at me. That was nothing compared to this.

Because this is real.

This is happening.

My dad is actually telling me that he doesn't consider me his son because I just opened my heart up to him. Because I confirmed what this family has been pushing away for years. Because I was _honest for once _in my god damn life.

I'm crying now. The tears are spilling down my cheeks. "Please, dad. Please. Don't make me-"

"Shut up!" He nearly screams, raising his voice for the first time. Showing some kind of emotion tonight for the _first fucking time._

"I don't have anywhere to go." I barely recognize my own voice. There's so much desperation laced in it. It's shaking. It's scaring me.

"Well you should have thought about that before you decided to become a _queer,_" he spits viciously.

"I didn't _choose_ to be gay! Why would I choose to be taunted at school? Why would I choose to be bullied? To be kicked out of my own house?" This is the first time in my life that I've talked back to my father this way. I've always been so afraid to stand up for myself, but I can't help it. There are so many emotions boiling in the pit of my stomach that I can't _stop. _So, my father decides to do it for my when he steps forward and punches me in the face. For a moment, I see white before I stumble back against the coffee table. I'm almost sure I hear my mother cry out followed by my father's voice telling her to shut the hell up.

I cover the tender spot right below my right eye where my father just slammed his fist. I bite my lip, face twisting a little in pain. When I open my eyes, he speaks.

"Now you have half an hour. I'm setting a timer. Judy!" I watch as my mom stumbles to her feet and follows my father out of the room without a glance in my direction.

Thirty minutes never seemed like such a short amount of time until now. I never realized how essential time can be. And how hard it is to pack everything you're going to need in only half an hour. I hardly remember packing my things. I look at my closet and try not to begin sobbing because it'll only take away from the time that I have. I scramble around my room desperately, throwing my favorite pieces of clothing into my suitcase. Boots, shoes, bowties, accessories, my phone, laptop, charger, my worn out copy of The Sound of Music. There's so much and I feel dizzy. I feel like I'm going to pass out. I have trouble trying to figure out if this is actually happening. I am no longer welcome in my own home because I'm gay. Because I'm in love with Blaine and not Brittany. Because I would rather hold hands with a boy than make out with a girl.

I hear my father call from across the hall, telling me that I have five minutes. It almost sounds like he's mocking me. I can barely see through the fog of tears as I zip up my suitcase and drag it out of my room and down the stairs.

"And don't even think about taking the Navigator," I hear him call from his room where he's probably sitting back in bed watching the game on his HD flat screen T.V. "Because it isn't yours."

I hold back the sob that tries to escape as I wipe at my eyes with the sleeve of my jacket. I wrap a scarf around my neck and suddenly I'm outside. I'm walking down the winding path in my front yard. I look at my black SUV. No. My father's SUV. I'm sobbing now, tears streaming down my face.

I'm homeless.

* * *

><p>I have trouble piecing together how I end up in Blaine's house. Half way down my block, I pulled out my phone and dialed the most recent number on phone. It so happened to be Blaine. It's all a big blur, but I remember him telling me to stay put and that he would pick me up immediately. My mind was so cluttered at the time, that it all feels like a dream. The entire ride back to his house was spent in complete silence save for my soft sniffling every now and again as I cried quietly in the passenger's seat. I remember Blaine reaching out when he pulled up to a stop light. I remember his hand covering mine. And I remember his hand didn't leave until we pulled up to his house and got out of the car.<p>

Now, I'm sitting in Blaine's living room on the couch. His parents are out of town on another business trip and won't be back until the end of the week which I'm kind of grateful for. They barely know me and I wouldn't want them to see me like this. A broken boy.

I pull my legs up onto the couch, shifting so that my head is resting on the arm rest. I can hear Blaine fiddling about in the kitchen. I think he mentioned something about making some hot cocoa. I lay completely still for a little while just listening to the little sounds coming from the kitchen behind me. My nose is still so incredibly stuffed up from crying for almost two hours straight. I think my body is out of tears at this point. I reach up to rub at my swollen eyes. Any other day I would complain about Blaine seeing me in this state, but right now, that's the least of my worries.

I lose track of time. Eventually, Blaine walks into the room holding two mugs of hot chocolate. He sits down beside me as I sit up and take my mug from his hand with a soft, "Thank you."

"I put extra mini marshmallows in yours," he offers with that adorable boyish charm that usually makes me smile. Tonight, it doesn't though. And I feel horrible for not reacting to his words, just taking a sip from the mug.

We sit in silence for a few minutes, just relaxing in each other's presence. I'm the one who breaks the silence. "Thanks for coming out to get me."

"Of course, Kurt," Blaine says. His voice goes a little high and that makes me smile. I've noticed it's something that he does when he's stating the obvious and it's so incredibly endearing. "You know I would do anything for you."

I'm not sure if my heart should sink or swell at those words. My eyes flicker up from the mug to meet Blaine's warm, earnest ones. He offers me a smile.

"Yeah," I finally whisper.

That night, we don't talk about my father. We don't talk about me getting kicked out. Instead, we talk about the things we love. Like Glee club and singing. And Disney movies and our childhood. We lay in Blaine's bed for hours, listening to his Broadway playlist and singing along. Singing duets and laughing at each other. For a little while, I forget about what has happened tonight. I forget that I no longer have a home.

And when we finally fall asleep, my head is on Blaine's chest and his arm is wrapped around my shoulders. His cheek is pressed against the top of my head and I decide that I want to stay like this forever. I decide that there is _nothing _wrong with me being gay no matter what my father does or says. I know that these feelings that I have for Blaine are real and there is nothing-absolutely nothing that can take that away from me.


	4. Chapter 3

I'm grateful that today is Saturday. After last night, I'm not entirely sure I can gather up the strength to go to school. I absolutely hate missing school and falling behind in my classes. I've always striven to do my very best in my studies. I'm sure it's because of all the pressure my parents have put on me ever since I was a kid. They constantly compared me to my sister, telling me that I need to strive to be like her, possibly even better. The line between what my parents have wanted and what I want for myself has kind of been blurred throughout the years.

I'm up before Blaine and for a moment, I feel dazed and lost. I'm not in my own bed and I can't remember why. It only takes me a second to remember the events of last night. My eyes sting and I'm not sure if it's from all the crying I did last night or because I'm still incredibly drained from its events. Slowly, I sit up, rubbing at my eyes and for a moment, I'm mortified that Blaine is going to see me in this state. Skin blotchy, eyes stained red, hair a mess. And then I remember that last night, Blaine saw me at my worst. I was completely vulnerable and totally worn down by my father's cruel words and my mother's lack to stand up for her child.

I carefully slip out of bed thankful that Blaine is a fairly heavy sleeper. At least, that's what it seems like at first because halfway to the bathroom, I hear the bed sheets rustle and I hear Blaine's voice incredibly rough and heavy with sleep. My heart skips a beat at the sound.

"You alright?" he mutters sleepily. I stop dead in my tracks and look back at him. I nod. "Yeah," I mumble softly. "Yeah, I'm ok." I offer a smile, though it's half-hearted.

Honestly, I feel like shit. Any other day I would have been thrilled to wake up in Blaine's bed. But today, I wish I was at home in my own room in a familiar environment. In a place that I know. I'm not stupid, though. I know my room isn't a safe haven because it isn't really my room anymore. I feel like I've lost everything in one night.

I watch as Blaine returns the smile, eyes soft and inviting. My heart warms at the sight.

I've lost _almost_ everything in one night.

* * *

><p>I end up spending the entire weekend with Blaine and when it's time to go back to school on Monday, I almost feel like crying. I know it sounds incredibly ridiculous, but it reminds me of the first day of daycare. You've spend the first five years of your life attached to your mother and suddenly you're thrown into this unfamiliar place where everything seems a lot bigger and scarier. That's kind of how I feel Monday morning as I'm sitting in Blaine's car, gathering my bag and shoving my notebook into it. From beside me, I can feel Blaine watching in silence. I can practically taste the concern that's hanging in the air. Once I snap my bag shut I raise my eyes to look at him, brushing away a strand of hair that manages to fall out of place.<p>

"Are you sure you're gonna be alright?" he asks softly. He's noticed how much I've been keeping to myself this entire weekend and he knows how affected I am by it all.

"Yeah," I breath as I sling the strap over my shoulder and reach for the door handle. Before I can open the door, I feel Blaine's hand cover mine. I pause, turning my head to look back at him.

"Just let me know if you need anything," he offers, eyes earnest.

Butterflies are fluttering around inside my stomach as I swallow hard and I barely nod. "Of course," I mutter as he releases my hand, but not without giving it a gentle squeeze. I smile for the first time that morning as I say, "Bye, Blaine."

I hear Blaine call out a soft, "Bye," behind me before I close the door and I'm walking straight towards the doors that will lead me into my hellish day at McKinley.

The day drags on like I expect it to. By second period I find myself sneaking my phone out of my pocket to send Blaine a text message. He responds almost immediately and I spend the rest of the day exchanging text messages with him. It makes me feel a little better, even when Karofsky shoves me into a set of lockers while wishing me a happy Monday. I stay in place, tightly gripping my phone as I watch him exchange high fives with Azimio and disappear into the crowd of students. I see Quinn watching me. Her cheerios uniform is gone and she's looking at me from the doorway of a classroom. Our eyes meet and we hold eachother's gaze for a few seconds before a group of students cross our line of those few moments I see something that I've never seen from Quinn...a sense of compassion. Love. Caring.I decide that I don't want to tell anyone about my parents kicking me out of the house. I'm embarrassed, ashamed almost. I don't even tell Mercedes. For that reason I'm shocked when I find myself stopping Quinn after glee rehearsal a few days later. The rest of the members step and dodge their way around us and head out the door. She turns around completely to look at me and I notice that she's clutching her books close to her stomach. It's something that I realize she's been doing recently. Finn is standing beside her and I catch his eye and he looks down at me before muttering. "I'll meet you at my car?" to which Quinn nods. I wait until the door has slammed shut behind him to speak.

"Have you talked to your dad about your pregnancy?" I'm not going to beat around the bush. She knows that I know and there's no sense hiding nods and actually smiles. I return the gesture. It's nice to know that at least one of us has had a positive outcome this winter break."Thank you, Kurt," she says, voice soft. My eyebrows pull together as I quietly ask, "For what?"She shakes her head and shrugs. "Just for listening. I really needed someone else besides Puck to talk to. I..." she trails off before sighing softly. "Thank you," she says again.I suddenly have the urge to tell her everything just like she told me three weeks ago. I'm not entirely sure why. But I almost feel like I owe it to her. She confided in me so I want to do the same. Just because she's here. Just because I feel like someone in this goddamn school needs to know about me and what I've been through. That not only have I been tormented at school, but at home as well."My parents kicked me out," I say suddenly before I can stop myself. Quinn stares at me for a moment before her eyebrows pull together. "What?" she asks looking a little confused."...I came out to them over break and...and my dad just told me to leave the house." It hurts so much to talk about it and I didn't realize how difficult this would be. I realize that eventually I'm going to have to do this again multiple times when people start to notice that my parents aren't showing up to our competitions and performances. When they realize that my outfits are repeating because more than half of my wardrobe is no longer in my possession. "Do you need a place to stay?" she asks suddenly, reaching out to touch my arm. Her hand is so incredibly warm and inviting and I almost say yes. Instead though, I remain silent, my throat tight and I don't want to speak because I'm afraid I might sob out pathetically. I feel so exposed and weak right now and I am inwardly kicking myself for even telling her this in the first place. The way she's looking at me, however, suddenly calms me and I briefly wonder if it's that's her maternal instinct kicking in. Maybe it's a side of Quinn I never realized existed. Possibly both."I'm staying with Blaine right now, but his parents don't know. They're out of town on a business trip." Honestly, I'm not sure if moving in to Blaine's house should even be an option. Things with his dad are…weird and I don't want to be the one to put more strain on that relationship. Quinn's offer is like some heaven sent opportunity.

"I'm sure my dad won't mind you staying with us," she says with a gentle smile as she pulls her hand back to grip her notebook.

"I don't think…" I trail off when Quinn shakes her head.

"Stop," she says softly. "I'll talk to him tonight." And then she reaches out to take my phone into her hands and unlocks it. My eyebrows pull together and in a few seconds she's placing the phone back into my hand. I'm surprised my parents haven't cut off my phone yet. It's probably because the bill isn't due until next month. Every time I attempt to make a call or send a text message I can only hope that it will go through.

"I added my number to your contacts," she informs me. "Call me tonight after eight."

All I can do is stare at her a little dumbly. I can hardly believe the girl standing in front of me. Part of me wonders if this has anything to do with her pregnancy. I wonder if it's changed her or maybe I just never gave this girl a chance. We never really spoke because we didn't have anything to really talk about. She never went out of her way to make my life miserable like most of the other kids. She never really made a comment about my sexuality either. For a moment, I wonder why I hadn't given myself more of a chance to get to know Quinn a little better.

"Thank you so much. I…I don't know what to…"

"You don't have to say anything," she says with a little shake of the head. Quinn then reaches out to rub my arm soothingly. "Don't forget to call me tonight." And then she's turning and walking out of the room.

People like her give me hope for the world. People like her remind me that there are individuals who will intentionally hurt and judge you but there are others who are the opposite. They are people who will go out of their way to make you feel safe and wanted. Make you feel like you have some kind of purpose in life. Like you're not a mistake, a product of bad parenting, a disappointment.

* * *

><p>That night I find myself staring at my phone. I'm sitting at the dining room table at Blaine's house and my cell phone is lying on the table screaming at me to call Quinn. It's nine o'clock and part of me wonders if she's doing the same. I wonder if she's keeping an eye on her phone waiting for me to call her back. I wonder if Burt will allow me to move in with them for a little while. I never really considered Quinn a close friend. Actually, we were more like acquaintances until that afternoon I found out she was pregnant. I see myself moving in with Rachel before I do Quinn. It's strange. But Quinn did offer and I shouldn't turn it down. It's not like I have many options right now, anyway.<p>

With a defeated sigh I snatch my phone up and start going through my contacts until I find Quinn's name. I stare at it for a few seconds before sucking it up and pressing the call button and bringing the phone to my ear. I half expect it to go to voicemail but to my surprise, she answers. I can practically hear the smile in her voice as we speak and she tells me that her father would be more than happy to offer me a place to stay. She explains that they have an extra bedroom with more than enough space. She also tells me that I am more than welcome to stay as long as I need to.

A crazy side of me wonders if my father will come around. I wonder if I will wake up to a phone call from him at three in the morning. I wonder if he'll apologize and ask me to come home. But then I remember that my life isn't a movie. Life doesn't always have happy endings. Things happen; bad things. I never thought I would find myself in this position. I used to have everything. Endless amounts of designer clothes, a beautiful home, a huge room, an expensive car. And with just those two words: "I'm gay." I lost it all. I lost everything I cherished and loved _just_ because I like boys. Just because I would rather kiss Blaine than all those girls my father has tried setting me up with in a desperate attempt to prove what he feared most: that his little boy turned out to be gay.

I try not to let my mind linger on ridiculous things like my father calling me to apologize because he isn't going to do it. The way he looked at me that night…That man wasn't my father. He was a stranger. And that stranger was not going to take Kurt Fabray back into his home.

Blaine is back home late that evening because of Warbler practice. I spend the night awkwardly wandering the house until I finally settle in Blaine's bed to watch TV. His bed is huge and comfortable and it smells so much like him. Like his cologne. It's a scent that I've grown to love. I find comfort in this scent and it makes me feel more at home than either of my parents ever have. There's so much love here. So much love coming from Blaine as he enters his room and smiles at me, dropping his school bag on his desk. My eyes follow him as he shrugs off his blazer and loosens his tie. I watch as he pulls the tie over his head and hangs it over the back of his desk chair along with his blazer.

"Did you talk to Quinn?" Blaine asks as he undoes the first button of his white dress shirt. My eyes linger on his hand for a moment before I look up at his face and nod.

"Yeah," I say softly. "Her dad says I'm welcome to stay."

Blaine smiles and nods. Though, I can see a hint of sadness in his eyes. I can tell that he wants me to move in with him. Because I've seen that protective side of Blaine. The side that tends to slip whenever we talk about my dad. I've seen the anger flashing briefly in his eyes. I know that if it was up to him, I would just move in with him. But it isn't. We're just a couple of high school boys and we don't make the rules. We go by what our parents tell us and both Blaine and I know that his dad would not welcome me with open arms. He doesn't hate me or dislike me. He just has a strange relationship with Blaine from what I have gathered. And despite the fact that I've been kicked out of my house, I don't want to be another strain on Blaine and Mr. Anderson's relationship. I'm not sure how kindly he would take to his gay son's equally gay friend living with him.

So, I try to make the most out of all this time I have with Blaine. I savor it and keep it tucked away in my heart.

Blaine's parents are supposed to be back on Sunday and it's already Thursday. I have him for the weekend and I'm so incredibly grateful for that. My eyes linger on him for a few more seconds until I decide that I'm probably staring and finally return my gaze to the TV. I'm watching Project Runway. Usually, I'm not one for reality television shows but the designs on this show are phenomenal in so incredibly inspiring. That, and I love Tim Gun.

Blaine tells me he's going to take a quick shower and a give him a small nod as I lay down on my stomach, chin resting over my folded hands. Even though the theme for the episode is intriguing, I find myself thinking about Blaine and everything we've been through in the short time that we've known each other. I think about the way he smiles at me and the way he touches my hand. The way he sometimes sits a little too close. Closer than any boy has ever sat. Our knees touch and our arms brush occasionally. Last night I woke up to him snuggled close to me and I nearly lost it. I was blushing wildly and my heart was hammering at my chest. Once I had gotten over the initial shock, I closed my eyes and pulled myself a little closer to Blaine, wishing I could stay like that forever.

I constantly find myself wondering how Blaine feels about me. If he sees me as just a friend or if he wants more. It's all so unclear and it's so very hard to tell because he's the only other gay male (besides Karofsky) that I have ever met. I'm not sure if this is normal behavior; if gay boys are more touchy. Or maybe it's just Blaine. I'm not entirely sure.

Eventually, my attention slips back to the TV and Blaine steps out of the bathroom during the judging in the episode.

"Oh _man,_ I love this show," I hear him say from across the room.

I smile. "I'm still waiting for a McQueen inspired episode." I turn my head to look at Blaine who's hair is still wet from the shower. It's incredibly curly and so very beautiful. My smile widens when I look at him and he laughs almost nervously as he tosses the towel in his hand across the room and into the hamper. He's wearing a t-shirt and sweat pants and I never, ever realized someone could look so good in something like that.

I move over a little, giving Blaine space to sit beside me as we fall into silence and watch the last few minutes of the episode. Once it's over, I sit up, stretching my back a little before looking over at Blaine who's eyes are still on the TV. My eyes flicker up to his hair as I speak. "Why do you always keep your hair gelled?" I find myself asking because, really, it's something that I've wondered about for a while now.

Blaine shrugs as he looks at me. "We're supposed to be 'well-groomed'," he raises his fingers making air-quotes, "at Dalton and my hair can get pretty messy if I don't put anything in it. After transferring, I just kind of got into the habit of gelling it all the time."

Before I can stop myself, I'm raising my hand, fingers lightly touching his dark hair. My eyes find Blaine's who's staring back at me with a little smile. I feel myself blush as I slip my fingers into his damp hair and it's as soft as it looks. "Well, I think it looks better when it isn't gelled down," I offer quietly as he gently leans into my hand. After a moment, I make a move to withdraw my hand but Blaine is suddenly reaching up to stop me.

"That feels really nice." His voice is barely above a whisper and I laugh softly, a nervous little gesture. His fingers are warm against my skin and I just want to kiss him now. I want to pull him close and just _kiss_ him. But I don't because I'm afraid. I'm too nervous.

Instead I say, "I'm not your personal scalp massage therapist."

Blaine laughs as his hand falls to his lap. "You can be," he throws back and my heart flutters as I briefly wonder if this is what _actual _flirting feels like. Not that one-sided crap I did with Finn last year.

"I think I'll pass," I say with an arch of the brow and a smile. And just like that, I retrieve my hand successfully. At that moment, I wish Blaine's hand would have been there to stop me again.


	5. Chapter 4

I wake up Saturday morning feeling completely and utterly drained. I've had a full night's sleep, but I'm still tired. A few hours into the day it hits me like a freight train. I suddenly realize the gravity of the situation I find myself realizing that I've probably lost my parents forever. Blaine notices my sudden change in attitude and he asks if I'm feeling alright. My only response is a shrug of my shoulders. I'm not even sure anymore. I try to convince myself that I can turn this horrible mess into something positive. I try to tell myself that I don't have to hide anymore and that's great. But I can't. I can't bring myself to believe any of that because, yes, I love spending so much time with Blaine but a part of me just wants to go home. I miss my room. I miss my clothes. I miss my mom's home cooked meals. Maybe my family was a bit dysfunctional, but they're still my family and I'm sure my dad loves me, despite the fact that he kicked me out because I was gay. Maybe he was confused. Maybe he was shocked and maybe he's ready to apologize.

I find myself standing at my front door that night. Blaine doesn't know I'm here. I half considered asking him for a ride but I decided against it. He would probably try talking me out of it. Either way, this is something I need to do on my own. I need to make things right.

I notice that my hand is shaking when I raise it to ring the door bell. I'm shivering in the cold January air and I know it has very little to do with the weather. I stand in front of the door for about a minute and there's no answer. I can't tell if my parents are home or not because they always park their cars in the garage. I notice that my Navigator is missing from it's usual spot in the driveway and I wonder if my father got rid of it. My stomach drops. I don't want to believe that. I ring the door bell again and wait another two minutes, but there is no response.

A few minutes later as I'm sitting on a bench waiting for the bus and I'm fighting back my tears.

I just want to go back home.

By the following night I'm settled into the guest room Quinn and Burt have set up for me. The first thing I notice about this house is that it smells really nice. There's a warmth lingering in the air that's welcoming and inviting. When Quinn and Burt say their goodnights to me, I find myself carefully unpacking my clothing. I examine each and every piece of clothing as I neatly fold them into an open drawer in the dresser. I'm running out of outfit combinations very quickly and I realize that my friends at school are going to notice and will probably ask questions. Maybe make a joke about it, not realizing what they're saying will affect me. I sigh as I slam the drawer shut with a little more force that necessary.

I make sure to place the little yellow owl Blaine gave me for Christmas on my nightstand.

I return to the bed where my suitcase is open and carefully go through the little pockets making sure I haven't missed anything. As I reach into one of the smaller pockets, my finger brushes against cool metal. I grab at it and pull it out to see that it's a house key. My house key. I stare at it for a few moments as I chew on the inside of my cheek. I walk over to the nightstand were my wallet is sitting and I slip the key inside. It sits there until a week and a half later on a particularly chilly day after school.

I take the bus to my house again. When I step up to the front door my heart is racing. This horrible feeling looms over me and I feel like I'm breaking into somebody else's home as I slip the key into the lock and turn it.

Both my parents are at work and my mom won't be home until five o'clock so I have roughly an hour before I have to leave. As I step through the door, my stomach drops as that awful feeling grows stronger. Even though no one is here to say a thing, I don't feel welcome. There's this horrible energy locked within this house and I nearly shiver, shrugging off my coat and hanging it up. My steps are silent and light as I make my way up the stairs and there's this eerie silence in here. I've been home alone several times and I've been in this house when it's been quiet but somehow, it feels different now. I go straight to my room and I let out an audible sigh of relief to find that everything is exactly the same as I left it. Part of me wonders if either of my parents have even been in here.

I immediately move over to my bed and collapse in it, burying my face into a pillow. Before I know it, I'm crying. Heaving sobs. I can't remember the last time I cried this hard. In fact, I don't think I've ever cried like this. Ever. I feel so lost and I feel so incredibly empty.

Once my sobbing dies down to little sniffs, I move off of my bed and into my closet. I briefly remember Blaine walking around in here looking at my clothes in awe. A little smile pulls at my mouth as I slowly begin picking up pieces of clothing; the ones I like the most. I'm halfway through shoving the clothes into a backpack I brought with me when I hear the front door slam shut. My eyes go wide and my stomach twists. I glance at my phone to see that it's only four thirty. Both of my parents are supposed to be at work right now. I suddenly feel nauseous and I don't know what to do. I briefly consider climbing out the window but I know I can't make it. There's absolutely no leverage and if I try to jump I'm sure I will break a bone. I start to panic and my breathing pattern quickens. My heart is racing and I have no idea what to do.

Why did I do this? Why did I come in here? What if that's my dad? What will he do if he sees me?

I hear footsteps clonking up the stairs.

Oh my god. Oh my fucking god.

I notice that the door to my room is half open. It was closed when I got here. And I have no time to shut it. I decide that maybe I should just hide somewhere. Anywhere. I'm about to leap into the closet but before I can move any part of my body the door is swinging open and I see my father.

God, why? Why did it have to be him?

We stare at each other for a long while and I can hear my own heart racing in my ears. My body goes numb and I can't move. I can't say anything.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" He finally asks and I realize that he's slurring. He's been drinking.

"I just-I came to get my clothes. That's all. I-"

"I told you that you weren't welcome into my home!" He screams and I flinch letting out a small whimper. I'm terrified of what he might do. I've never seen him like this. This is worse than the night he kicked me out. Suddenly, he's closing the space between us and he grabs at the sleeve of my shirt. Before I can register anything else, I feel myself being hurled against the wall. "How dare you show your face in my home, you little faggot?" He snarls viciously. Now he's gripping my arm tightly and I cry out in pain.

"Dad, stop it," I croak. "That hurts. Please." All I can do is beg because I'm afraid to fight back. He reeks of beer. I have no idea what he's capable of doing. I don't even recognize this man. I don't understand what has happened. Have I done this to him? Is this my fault?

"You thought you were being sneaky, didn't you? You thought you could come in here after I told you to leave?" he spits.

At this point, I'm crying, trying to pull myself out of his tight grip. I just want to get away. I've never felt so cornered and helpless.

He yanks me away from the wall and shoves at me, finally letting me go. I scramble for my backpack and run. I nearly trip down the stairs and yank the door open and I wipe at my tear stained face. Once I'm out of the house, I suddenly realize that I've forgotten my coat but at this point I don't care.

I've run a few blocks when I finally stop and sink down onto my knees, utterly exhausted, breaths coming out in quickened puffs. My chest feels tight and it hurts. I try to breathe through my nose to calm my breathing and keep my throat from taking in any more of the bitter air. My body is trembling ferociously at this point and I wonder if my lips have already turned blue. I bite down the urge to cry as I let my head drop. I have trouble processing what just happened and my arm is still throbbing from the tight grip of my father's hand. My back aches from colliding against the wall. My legs hurt from running so fast.

This is all my fault. I have turned my father into a violent alcoholic.

* * *

><p>The following morning I wake up with the most awful sore throat and I figure it's because I spent an hour sitting in the cold weather yesterday. Blaine called me last night, even sent me a text message, but I haven't responded. I didn't have it in me to talk to him then because I just know that I would have broken down the moment I heard his voice. As I'm walking through the parking lot, Quinn at my side, my phone begins to ring. As I pull it out, Quinn touches my arm and quietly tells me she'll see me later as she meets Finn at his car. Finn tosses me a smile and a wave as I return it half heartedly before I glance down at the caller ID to see that it's Blaine calling. I'm certain that today or tomorrow will be the last day that I'll even have a phone.<p>

I answer it.

"Hey," Blaine breathes and I can hear a hint of relief in his voice.

I bite my lip. "Hi."

"I tried calling last night but I couldn't get through…"

"I know," I say quietly. "I was busy." It's not a complete lie.

"Oh," Blaine says slowly. "Well, I was just worried. We were supposed to go-"

"Oh, crap!" I grit out through my teeth as I slap the palm of my hand into my forehead. "Blaine, I'm so sorry." Blaine had invited me to see a performance of Le Miserable and he bought the tickets in advanced for us. I had been looking forward to it all week and completely forgot about it because of yesterday's events. I feel even worse now.

"It's fine," he says softly. "Are you…are you sure you're ok, Kurt?" he presses on gently.

I swallow and my throat stings at the action. I can't lie to Blaine. He's been so good to me. He's done so much in such a small amount of time and he doesn't deserve to be lied to. "No," I say finally as I step into the school and move off to the side, out of everyone's way. "I don't want to talk about it right now." My eyes roam the halls as I talk, watching people walk past, pulling things out of their lockers. "I promise we'll talk about it later. I'll call you after school."

Blaine is silent for a few moments and then he finally speaks. "Alright."

"I have to go," I mutter moving away from the wall I'm leaning against and walking to my locker. "I'll talk to you later."

"Okay. Just…take it easy. Please." There's so much concern threaded into his voice it almost breaks my heart. I feel like every ounce of gravity is weighing my down as I weave through the students. My feet feel like they weigh a ton and I just want to lie in bed all day and forget the world for a little while. Forget about the fact that I have to pretend like everything is ok around my friends. Forget about the fact that thanks to me, my father is drinking himself stupid. Push away that what-if lingering in the back of my mind. Stop myself from wondering if I just kept my feelings to myself if things would still be ok.

* * *

><p>This shouldn't be as hard as it's proving itself to be. Talking to Blaine has always been so easy for me and I wonder why suddenly it's become so difficult. I can't get that look my dad gave me out of my head. I spend the entire day trapped in my own mind, barely paying attention in class. My eyes continuously drift out the window or down onto my desk. At one point, one the teachers demands my attention back to the front of the class. This is something that never happens.<p>

Blaine asks if I want to meet him at the Lima Bean but we settle on going over to his house instead. I'd rather not talk about my personal business in a public place. I feel safer in Blaine's room and everything in here just smells like him. His cologne blended with the soft scent of clean laundry. I'm sitting on the edge of Blaine's bed, my shoes neatly set off in the corner of his room. My knees are drawn up to my chest and my arms are wrapped around my legs. Blaine is sitting on his knees on the floor right in front of me.

"Talk to me, Kurt," he says softly as he reaches up to touch my arm. His hand lingers there until I finally let my eyes fall on him. He's looking up at me, that gentle concern clouding his eyes.

"I went back to my house yesterday," I say, voice coming out a little weak. I sniff softly. My cold seems to be getting worse as the day progresses. I was a bit surprised when Blaine immediately noticed once he saw me. He offered me a cup of tea with honey and lemon along with a bit of cold medicine. I couldn't help but smile. Blaine is so good to me.

Blaine's eyebrows pull together. "What happened?" he asks in nearly a whisper.

I tell him everything because I want him to know. He should know because I owe him so much. More than he will ever know. He just stares up at me with that little crease on his forehead and his lips slightly parted like he wants to say something. Nothing comes out, though. He just keeps his hand on my arm giving it a gentle squeeze when I start to cry, suddenly. I didn't expect to cry, honestly. I thought I got it out of my system yesterday.

"Kurt," Blaine says finally, lifting himself up on his knees a little. He reaches up to wipe at my tear stained cheeks. "Are you ok? Did he hurt you?" His eyes immediately dart to my arm, inspecting it briefly and I shake my head.

"It's my fault he's like this," I whisper brokenly. "If I didn't…If I just kept it to myself…"

Suddenly, there's a look that crosses Blaine's face that I've never seen. This pristine boy I've grown to know suddenly has this dark, almost angry look on his face as his eyes lock on mine. "Don't you ever say that, Kurt." He grabs my hand, lacing his fingers with mine and he holds it tightly. My stomach swoops at the feeling. "You're perfectly fine the way you are. None of this is your fault. You shouldn't blame yourself or let someone try and convince you that you're wrong. Because you're not." I break eye contact because my heart is racing and that look in Blaine's eyes is so intense. I'm not afraid of him. I've just never had anyone look at me so…passionately before. Blaine ducks his head to find my eyes again. "Kurt," he whispers. And I see that softness again. "Talk to me," he repeats. "What are you thinking right now?"

"That you're the most incredible person I've ever met," I answer honestly before I can stop myself. No one has ever made me feel the way Blaine does. And no one has tried so hard to convince me that everything about being gay was perfectly fine. Sure, my friends supported me but that was it. It never really went past that.

Blaine blinks, taken aback by my sudden confession but after a moment, he smiles. "Please, don't do this to yourself, Kurt. I don't want to see you get hurt…"

I lower my eyes for a moment before nodding silently.

I can feel Blaine watching me and I look up, our eyes lingering. After a few seconds, I sniff before bringing my sleeve up to my nose and laughing. "I'm a mess," I mutter into the soft fabric closing my eyes that still sting from crying. "How are you even looking at me with a straight face right now?"

Blaine shrugs, face serious as he says, "You look perfect to me."

My mouth goes dry and my heart stops for a moment. I swallow and rub at my nose before bringing my hand down to lightly push at Blaine's shoulder. "Shut up, Blaine. Flattery doesn't work on me," I say, though I'm pretty sure I'm blushing and I'm almost positive Blaine notices judging from his smile. He slips his hand out of mine and I almost frown at the loss.

"What do you say to Chinese takeout and any movie of your choosing? My treat," Blaine offers as he stands.

"Usually, I'm against any Chinese takeout food, but today is an exception. Despite the horrifying amount of calories it's excellent comfort food."

Blaine laughs softly. "I'll take that as a yes," he says as he crosses the room and snatches up his phone.

I can't seem to take my eyes off of him as he dials the number. Or as he orders the food. I also can't help but notice the way his eyes dart over to me every now and then as he's placing the order. My heart leaps and I'm sure that tonight, I have fallen helplessly in love with Blaine.


	6. Chapter 5

It's been a little under two weeks since the event with my father occurred. I've found myself thinking about it far more often than I would like to and it's very difficult to shake the thoughts away. Despite what Blaine told me that night, I still can't help but feel a small twinge of guilt. I don't speak about it, though. I keep the thoughts and feelings locked away in the back of my mind, pushed into a corner where I hope they will eventually fade with time.

It's Friday night when I'm standing in the kitchen preparing myself some dinner when I hear the front door slam shut and Quinn crying. Burt is in the next room watching the game and he immediately calls her name out asking if she's alright. There's no response as the sobbing continues. My heart sinks at the sound and I slowly move across the kitchen and peek into the living room to find Quinn with her face buried in her father's chest. His arms are wrapped around her and he's rubbing soothing, gentle circles on her back. I can see him whispering something to her, her head bowed as her shoulders shake.

I almost feel like I shouldn't be watching. Like it's some intimate moment reserved for a father and his child. But I can't help myself. And I can't help but feel this tiny twinge of jealousy. Burt is so incredibly understanding and loving. He accepts the fact that his little girl made a mistake and knows that she will eventually bounce back from it. He understands that teenagers do stupid things. Once a feel like I've overstayed my welcome in this room, I silently turn and walk back into the kitchen to finish preparing my meal. I quickly clean up any mess that I've made and retreat into the guest room that has become my room to eat my dinner there. I move my cell phone over to the nightstand. The line was finally cut off a week ago and I have no use for it unless I use it to listen to music or play a mindless game of Angry Birds.

I stay in my room for the next few hours watching the marathon of America's Next Top Model. After a second episode, I finally decide to drag myself out of bed to place my plate into the dishwasher. On my way back to my room, I stop in front of Quinn's door. I stare at it for a few seconds as I consider knocking. I know how moody she can get and don't want to make her angry. She was obviously very upset when she got home and I don't want to make it worse. But, I'm concerned and curious as to why she was crying earlier. With a sigh, I raise my hand and knock softly to find that the door has been left ajar. It creaks open a little and I can hear the sound of retching. I flinch, face twisting a little. These past few days, Quinn has been getting sick much more often than usual and it's painful to hear her throwing up every morning before school.

After a few seconds and coughs later I hear the toilet flush. And then there's a little groan. I decide to let myself in and peek into the bathroom as she rinses out her mouth.

"Hey," I say softly. I don't want to startle her. She must have heard me knocking because she barely responds to my presence just giving off another soft groan. I step aside, letting her walk out of the bathroom and over to her bed. I face her, watching as she crawls in and curls on to her side only staying that way for a moment before making a face and rolling onto her back.

"I don't understand why they call it morning sickness," she mutters pathetically, "I'm throwing up day and night."

I give her a weak smile as I slowly make my way over to her bed and take a seat on the edge. "Do you need anything?"

"If you can make this baby come out that would be fantastic," she says, voice a little hoarse.

I smile softly. "Sorry, I don't think I can do that." And then a silence falls between us that lasts for a minute until I speak again. "What happened today?" I ask softly.

She looks at me, eyes still puffy and red. I wonder how long she's been crying. "Finn and I broke up," she says.

"What?" I ask slowly.

"Puck told him _everything,_" she says, voice breaking at the last word. "And Finn dumped me. He said he couldn't believe I would do something like that to him." She lets out a gentle sob as she wipes at her face fiercely. "I can't do this anymore," she sobs. "I'm so tired of all of the drama and the boys and just-_everything,_ God." She covers her face, rubbing her eyes with the palms of her hands.

"Does your dad know?" I ask.

"Yes," she says weakly. "I told him everything when I told him I was pregnant."

My heart stutters for a moment. There's so much _love_ in this house it's almost too much for me to handle. I'm not used to this kind of understanding and this amount of-just-_caring._ Maybe Burt was a little disappointed in Quinn but he didn't kick her out. He didn't call her a whore or a disappointment because he loves her.

"That's…that's good," I say slowly as I smile softly at her.

"Now everyone at school is gonna know," she says with a watery, forced laugh. She then shakes her head as she starts to cry again. I immediately feel the need to wrap her up in a hug. And that's exactly what I do. I don't hesitate. She doesn't pull away. Instead, she leans into me like she _needs_ this support; to know that everything will be ok. That she will be ok.

This makes me realize that if Quinn will be ok then I can be too.

I stay in Quinn's room a little longer than expected. We end up talking for a little while about the cheerios and laughing about Coach Sylvester's teaching tactics. I don't have a whole lot in common with Quinn. I know this, but I still manage to get along with her so well. I'm a little surprised when she suddenly pulls me into a tight hug and thanks me softly. I nod against her shoulder, smiling as I rub my hand against her back returning a gentle, "Of course."

On my way to my room I run into Burt who stops me and asks if we could talk for a minute. After brief hesitation, I nod and he leads me out into the living room and sits me down. For a moment, I feel nervous. What does he want to talk about? Is he going to tell me that my welcome here is limited? That he can't afford to have me around? That I need to find another place to stay? I breathe in slowly to calm myself as Burt takes a seat across from me.

"I just wanted to let you know that I meant what I said before," he begins slowly. "You're welcome to stay here as long as you need."

I can feel my shoulders relax and I want to sigh in relief. I let out the small breath I was holding through my nose as I nod slightly.

"What your parents did was wrong," he said, voice firm yet somehow gentle at the same time. "You're still their kid and they should love you not matter what. But…I'm not gonna get into that right now. I don't mind giving you a place to place to stay and food to eat. But, if you're anything like Quinn, I know you kids like going out on weekends to watch movies and stuff like that."

I suddenly find myself cutting him off. "Oh no. Sir. I don't need any extra money, really. You're giving me enough-"

Burt raises a hand to stop me from talking and he smiles. "Let me finish, kid," he says gently. "I own a mechanic shop and recently I had to let one of my guys who was moving away go. So I'm a little short on staff. You're more than welcome to help out around the place after school and over the weekend for a bit of extra spending money."

My stomach drops and my eyes go wide. I'm at loss for words because, _really,_ Burt has done more than enough to help me and now he's offering me a _job._ "I…That would be amazing," I breathe. "I-I don't really know much about cars, but I can learn, I promise. I'm a quick learner."

Burt laughs. "I'm sure you'll be fine. So, I take that as a yes, then?"

I nod quickly. "Yes-Of course." I'm already thinking of new outfits I can buy at the mall once I get my first paycheck. I'm absolutely _thrilled._

Burt offers me a warm smile as he stands and pats my shoulder. "I'll let you know when I need you to come in. Welcome to the team, kid." He gives my shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Now go on a get to bed, it's late."

I nod again, standing. "Thank you so much."

* * *

><p>"Kurt, that's wonderful," Blaine says through the phone the following afternoon. I'm beaming because I've just told him that Burt has offered me a job at the mechanic shop he owns. Honestly, it isn't my thing, but I swallow that down because it's a <em>job<em> and I need to make money somehow. I feel bad enough knowing that Burt Hummel is giving me a place to stay.

"I know," I practically squeal into the receiver. "I already have a mall trip with Mercedes planned out."

Blaine laughs and I simultaneously love and hate the way my heart still flutters at the sound. We spend the next few minutes finalizing our plans for the evening. We missed the Les Miserables performance two weeks ago and somehow, Blaine was able to switch the tickets for a showing of Madam Butterfly. I try to ignore the butterflies flapping around in my stomach when Blaine suggests dinner.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say that this was a date, Blaine," I offer easily, despite the nerves twisting in my stomach at the very use of the word.

"Do you want it to be?" Blaine asks, voice soft. My eyes go wide because I was _not_ expecting him to say that.

I remain silent for a few seconds and I can feel heat rising up to my cheeks. "Yeah," I answer truthfully.

"Alright then," I can hear the smile in his voice. "Then a date it is."

The moment we say our goodbyes and I've double checked I have definitely hung up, I collapse face first into my pillow and squeal into it.

Blaine and I are going on a _date._

And said date is lovely. Perfect, actually. My heart nearly leaps out of my chest when I see Blaine for the first time that night. The only word that can be used to describe him is _dapper._ I'm used to seeing him in his Dalton uniform, but this black, trimmed blazer contrasting against the crisp white shirt and his black bow tie is absolutely _breathtaking._ When I open the door and see his smiling face I just want to leap forward and kiss him.

That feeling doesn't go away when we arrive to the theater and he tells me to wait in the car so he can run around to my side and open the door for me. This time, I want to press him against the car and kiss him until I can't breathe.

During the show, as the end draws near I suddenly feel Blaine's hand clasp mine. My watery eyes move away from the stage and I blink away the tears to look at him. His attention is focused on the stage and he's biting his lip. His cheek is stained with a single tear streak.

By the end of the show, we're sniffing quietly, wiping at our eyes. As the lights slowly illuminate the theater we simultaneously look at one another, taking in each other's red eyes and noses and we both let out a soft, watery laugh. When Blaine lets go of my hand to wipe as his eyes I almost whine at the loss because his hand is so very soft and incredibly warm.

When we pull into my driveway I don't get out of the car. We stay within the warm confides of it, exchanging words, talking about the show we just saw and then somehow easing into a conversation about the new issue of Vogue magazine.

I tell him that even though I love performing and being a star, my true passion lies in fashion. I tell him that I want to leave this cow town and start life somewhere else. A place like New York or San Francisco. I tell him that nothing is going to stop me because there's nothing for me left in this place and I silently wonder if there was ever something here for me to begin with.

I can't help but notice this happy little glint in his eyes as Blaine watches me talk and I love the way he smiles at me. I don't think anyone has ever looked at me with so much admiration before and-especially after tonight-I wonder if Blaine feels the same way I feel about him.

I lean over to push at the seat belt buckle, setting it free with a click and slowly raise my gaze to meet his. I smile softly as I speak. "Thank you for tonight," I say. "You really didn't have to buy me dinner."

Blaine smiles that absolutely dazzling smile of his. "We agreed that this was a date, didn't we?"

I nod silently. Before I can second guess myself, I'm leaning in and stopping inches away from Blaine's face. Even in the darkness of the car I see his eyes flicker down to my mouth and then up to my eyes.

"I really want to kiss you," I say rather dumbly.

"Then do it," he urges softly.

I waste no time as I tilt my head to one side and close the space between our mouths. Blaine presses in a little closer and suddenly I feel his warm hand against my cheek. That only urges me to carefully part my lips, our mouths fitting perfectly together. Everything around me seems to slow and suddenly nothing outside of this car matters. The only thing I really care about right now is Blaine's hand on my cheek and the way his soft lips feel against mine and I don't _ever _want this moment to end. But it does when Blaine slowly pulls away just enough to break the kiss. I can feel his warm breath against my lips and that makes me want to kiss that beautiful mouth again. I open my eyes to see Blaine looking directly into my eyes and just from the look in those hazel eyes I can see that he's smiling. Before I can come up with something to say, he's closing the space between our mouths again and he kissing me, pushing his body closer to mine and using his other hand to brace himself on my seat as he leans forward. I wish we were outside of the car or inside Blaine's room because this is kind of uncomfortable and sort of an awkward position. But that thought quickly leaves me because I'm too busy focusing on the fact that Blaine is actually _kissing me._

When he breaks the kiss again and leans back into his seat to smile at me I sigh, leaning against the car door. "Well, that clears a lot of things up," I breathe before laughing softly.

"I've been wanting to do that all night," Blaine says quietly before laughing and ducking his head sheepishly.

"I've been wanting to do that since the day I met you," I confess.


End file.
